Wr1tt3n0ne

Bunches and bunches
2017-04-23 22:32:47 (UTC)

More Poetry...

Old Man Time walked into her library,
his footsteps echoing slightly on the stone floor,
she sat ensconced in a red velvet chair,
Her feet propped lightly on a matching footstool,
set on an Persian rug of the same color.
Closing the book she had been reading and folding it into her lap,
he told her the room was hers to do as she would with.

The walls expanded into another story as she looked up,
pulling images from her reading to fill in the details,
the second story, the winding wrought iron staircase twisting up,
the wooden ladders leaned into their tracks.

She formed the small hearth into a proper roaring massive fireplace
and placing it in the middle of the room,
set a large ornate desk behind her perch
as the room lengthened and reformed.

On recalling the huge windows set on either side of the desk,
she was taken aback, there could be no windows with those things outside,
wall reformed as she struggled to fill it in with a mirror image of the other side of the library.

That accomplished, she wondered if it wasn't a touch too big, it was so cozy before,
cozy like the cottage with the ivy had been,
"Can we go back?" she asked the Old Man,
"No, he knows the place, it isn't safe for now."

"In a year and a day we will return,
having the protection agreement run its course.
Since Time alters everything, you should be safe then."
She smiled bitter sweetly,
how she had longed for her love to have given her the year and a day pledge,
now she had it as protection from him. A tiny tear escaped her eyes.

"I know you are right." she told the Old Man and smiled.
Unfolding her book, she began reading
as she stoked the fire up a bit to warm her now cold self.




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